


Counting Down to Second Chances

by -catalyst (xo_thefirst)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, M/M, maybe character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:02:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28746642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xo_thefirst/pseuds/-catalyst
Summary: Kuroo always told him to put in more effort to connect, but it’s easy to forget. Most of the time, Kenma forgets.It hits harder when he remembers.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Counting Down to Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Puppynu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puppynu/gifts).



> a gift for puppynu :)
> 
> who asked for kuroken and angst with a happy ending ;n;

A clear _ding_ interrupts the music playing in Kenma’s ears. It startles him from his current task, where he’s inputting numbers into a spreadsheet for work, and he takes a moment to gain his bearings again before clicking on the Messages icon on his laptop. It loads within seconds and Kenma stares as his chat with Kuroo lights up. The message itself is nothing special, a simple invitation to eat out, but Kenma glances at his current workload before looking back to his messages.

_Sorry, I’m a bit busy with work right now_.

Before Kenma can even click back onto the spreadsheet to continue his work, the little speech bubble pops up. It starts then stops then starts again. Kenma can’t help but raise an eyebrow at it. It’s not usual for Kuroo to have difficulty getting his thoughts across, especially after all these years.

_Come on, Kenmaaaa. Not even for a quick break?_

Kenma laughs. He can clearly hear his best friend’s voice in his head.

_I have a deadline to meet tomorrow, Kuro. Next time_.

A series of emojis appear next and Kenma laughs at them, feeling his heart flutter with how he can easily imagine Kuroo’s expression as each one of them. He’s so dumb.

“Next time,” Kenma murmurs to himself, clicking out of the app to see how much he has left for the spreadsheet. Then, he groans. “Next time.”

Before he knows it, next time becomes next, next time and next, next time becomes next, next, next time. It becomes a bad habit at this point. He tends to push things that aren’t needed immediately and he knows he’s let this little action leak itself more into his actual life than he’d care to admit. It drives a wedge between him and his friends, but he knows Kuroo understands. He knows Kuroo feels the same way when the outside world becomes too much. His outlet for relief is different from his though, and Kenma sighs as he continues to terraform the patch of island in his game.

The action itself is mind-numbing. It doesn’t require much thinking, which was the type of relief he’s been looking for, but it’s also making him drowsy. He barely registers when his cell phone _dings_ and he faintly remembers reading Kuroo’s message asking if he’s up for eating dinner tonight again. Technically, Kenma could get up and get some food, but he’s too tired.

He glances at his cell phone when it lights up again to remind him of his text messages and decides to leave it be. He can always respond later, maybe after a nap.

_You’ve been really wanting to eat out for a while. Any reason why?_

Kenma snorts at how the text bubble pops up immediately.

_I just missed you is all. Come on, Kenma. Let’s get drinks next time!_

It’s surprisingly easy to fall back into texting with Kuroo. It feels like no time has passed at all, as if they just hung out yesterday and the day before that, but he knows that isn’t true. Kenma tends to take days to respond if it isn’t within a few seconds, and he feels bad when he’s the one attempting to meet up with any of their friends instead. He feels worse when he tries to meet up with Kuroo even though he knows the other is busy when he finally feels up to hanging out again.

But it shouldn’t really matter that much, not when Kuroo has been his best friend for as long as he can remember. He’s always been there for him as his friend and maybe even more, and Kenma still doesn’t understand his feelings for him. He’s never been good with anything remotely romantic and they both know it shows when anything involving feelings is brought up.

_We should celebrate for my birthday_ , Kenma replies back, smiling when he sees the text bubble pop up again. _I’ll have more days off soon too_.

_It’s been a while since I’ve seen you drunk. It’s gonna be fun!_

That pulls a soft laugh out of him. He can’t really remember the last time they drank together either. It really has been a while. He should put in more effort, say ‘yes’ next time Kuroo asks him out for anything.

“Hey, Kenma,” someone suddenly calls. It diverts his attention away from his cell phone and to his coworkers a few feet away. “Lunch is almost over. Wanna go back with us?”

Kenma shrugs, shooting off a quick _I’ll see you later_ , before pocketing his phone and getting back to work.

It’s been a while since Kenma’s been able to sit outside his apartment and relax. He actually has the day off and he knows if he didn’t spend it getting fresh air one way or another, he’s only going to hear it from Kuroo that his lungs are probably going to die of carbon monoxide… or something like that. He isn’t sure, but it really is nice weather. It’s not too hot nor too cold. Kenma doesn’t mind leaning back against the wall and staring up at the endless blue sky. It’s strangely mesmerizing.

“Hey, Kenma.”

Without realizing it, Kenma responds with a hum. It takes him another minute to actually look over and see his neighbor out on his balcony, too. Kenma frowns. “What, Tora?” He frowns even harder when all that does is make his neighbor laugh.

“I’m not that ugly, come on. I just need you to check my back.”

That confuses Kenma. “Your back?” He hears his neighbor hum before he turns and lifts up his shirt—Oh. Kenma had forgotten.

“How much time does it show?”

01:02:04:56:32.

There’s less time than Kenma can remember checking for him. The numbers glow faintly in the middle of Yamamoto’s back, between his shoulder blades, and Kenma stares as the numbers keep decreasing by the second. It’s unnerving in its own way, but they all know it’s coming. It’s been counting down since the day they were born. Given one hundred years to live, it’s enough time to figure out life, to figure out what to do with themselves, and to figure out how to be happy.

“Kenma?”

“Oh,” he murmurs, staring as a minute passes by in silence. “Approximately 1 year and fifty-two hours left.”

As suddenly as it appeared, Yamamoto slips his shirt back on. It covers the time and, just like that, it slips into the back of their minds until they suddenly remember it again. “Thanks. What are you doing out here anyways? Just chilling?”

“Kuro says I need fresh air every now and then,” Kenma answers, now wondering how much time he has left. They don’t even know what happens to them after they die, just that their body turns into colorful wisps of blue, green, and purple before it disappears into thin air. It’s saddening, but they’ve lived more than a long enough life to not prepare for it. “I should contact him actually.”

“Kenma.” The way Yamamoto says his name makes Kenma focus on him and it startles him. His friend looks concerned and serious and Kenma is confused. “Kenma, how much time do you have left?”

Kenma furrows his brows at that. He doesn’t know. He can’t see his own time.

“Kuroo passed away this morning.”

“What?”

In all his years, Kenma has never texted so many people at once. He knows Yamamoto wouldn’t joke about death, but he wouldn’t put it past him to truly _think_ Kuroo had died when he simply just isn’t… answering his phone. Sometimes, Kuroo doesn’t reply as quickly as he has been recently and Kenma understands that.

But Kenma can’t help but panic more and more when he sees all their friends say they don’t know what happened. His heart won’t stop racing. They all say that Kuroo really did die. He simply collapsed before his body turned into those beautiful wisps and Kenma doesn’t understand.

He doesn’t do well with life or death. He simply moves along to the flow of whatever’s given to him and his heart breaks when, three days later, Kuroo still hasn’t responded to his text of _hey_. Kuroo _always_ responds within three days and… his message still hasn’t been changed to _Read_.

He can’t even bury the body.

The funeral service is strange. Kenma is asked to speak, but he doesn’t cry. There’s no body to view, but there’s a recent photo, which doesn’t really matter, because none of them age anymore. They all still look the same as when they turned eighteen and Kenma ignores the stab in his chest when he realizes he can’t get drinks with Kuroo anymore. He can’t text his best friend. He can’t complain when work becomes _too much_ and gets the best of him, and he can’t tell Kuroo when a new game’s been released and he doesn’t have time to play it.

He can’t do a lot of things anymore and it hurts.

Kenma only cries when everyone but Yamamoto and Fukunaga leave, where they sit in the grass by the river because that’s where he and Kuroo used to hang out when they realized they didn’t physically age anymore.

“He knows, Kenma,” Yamamoto murmurs, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just sits there next to him and Kenma appreciates it. “It’ll be fine.”

Kenma _knows_ it’ll be fine. Life goes on, but right now, Kenma feels like it won’t be. There were things he wanted to say, things he wanted to do with Kuroo, but now, he can’t. He can’t even believe he’s spent his whole life working some _desk_ job when that wasn’t something he wanted to do in the first place. He just wanted to go to university, work, earn some money, and do things he likes.

“I miss him,” he mumbles.

When Fukunaga lifts an arm to wrap around his shoulders, Kenma leans into him.

It’s not the same.

_Hey Kuro. When are you—_

_Kuro. What are—_

_Hey Kuro. Are—_

_Hey Kuro—_

_Kuro_

Three months pass, and Kenma cries to a song on his playlist.

Four months pass, and Kenma sighs at the clear blue sky.

Seven months pass, and Kenma resigns.

Eight months pass, and Kenma accepts his new position at a new company.

Nine months pass, Kenma thinks he’s doing okay. He feels like he’s enjoying his workplace more and his coworkers are fun. They don’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want and they’re welcoming whenever he makes blunt comments about projects and executions. He actually goes out a couple of times whenever they invite him to events.

He tries to keep track of time. He wants to be prepared, probably in the way Kuroo was when he kept asking to hang out with him, and he tries not to think of how he probably disappointed his best friend. He tries to think of how Kuroo probably understood him better than anybody else, and that it wasn’t _that_ intentional. Kenma loves Kuroo and he knows Kuroo probably knew that, too, in whatever way he believed.

But every now and then, he still cries. He’ll remember something random that happened thirty years ago and cry, because he can’t relive the memory with his best friend. He can’t hope to depend on him when he needs him most. He can’t create new memories and love him the way he should’ve been loved.

Kenma sighs when he knows the time on his back is ticking down by the second.

Any day now. Maybe, he’ll see what happens on the other side when they disappear.

And, really, it happens out of the blue.

Kenma is shopping for groceries. He’s in the middle of checking out when a woman taps him on the shoulder and points to his back. He’s confused—because _why is she pointing at his back?_ —, but then he can see the faint glow become brighter.

It’s strange, how he doesn’t feel any pain or sadness. He only feels remorse and maybe something even stronger—loneliness?—, but then he starts to transform before he can put his finger on it. He can only stare at the faces of the people around him, complete strangers, before he closes his eyes and passes away.

Death is something else. It’s warmer than Kenma imagined, expecting a cold grip to surround him instead, but it’s anything but that. It feels more welcoming, more inviting, and he guesses it’s to make up for having to live one hundred years if it’s a life spent without committing crime.

Though, his body feels stiff. It hurts to attempt to move a finger or a toe and he struggles to breathe as he tries to expand his lungs. It feels like he hasn’t taken in a breath in _years_ and, well, it sounds accurate. He wouldn’t need to breathe if he was dead, but why is he struggling so much? It feels like he’s drowning but he’s warm and he tries to remember how to breathe, how to let his body do something so natural, he wouldn’t even need to think of it.

The pressure on his chest doesn’t help though. It provides a different type of warmth, something to keep him grounded in this limbo, but then the pressure intensifies. It burns through his entire being and with a soft “ _Kenma_ ,” he opens his eyes.

Panic fills him the moment he sees the bright light above him. It blinds him, distracting him from the voices around him, but then something blocks its rays. It helps stop him from jumping away, from finding someplace safe to hide, and it takes longer than he admits to realize the voice screaming at him, the pressure pinning him down, is another human being. Well, he thinks it’s a human being.

“Kenma!”

The voice stills him. His heart beats into overdrive and he tries to search for the face above him. He tries to recognize the person holding him down and he almost chokes on thin air when he feels another hand reach up to card fingers through his hair, the touch strangely gentle.

“Focus, Kenma,” the voice quietly says, the pressure on his chest lifting. “Kenma.”

The voice sounds like it’s crying.

“I didn’t know if you’d open your eyes.”

Kenma really doesn’t understand. All he can see is the person lowering themselves, coming closer so he can see more clearly, and his eyes widen when the person’s profile comes into view. “Kuro?” he breathes, blinking, when Kuroo leaves a soft kiss on his forehead. He almost panics when Kuroo backs away again. He doesn’t even realize his hand shoots out to clutch at the front of his shirt, to keep him close.

He gasps when Kuroo leans in to kiss his cheeks next, his nose, his forehead again.

“Kenma, we forgot,” he suddenly hears. Kenma can’t handle this. He doesn’t know what’s going on. “Kenma, I love you. I’m not going anywhere, but loosen your grip? Let me talk to you properly before the nurses and doctor come back in.”

“What?” Kenma breathes, still seemingly out of breath. It’s like he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Kuro,” he murmurs, feeling the hand in his hair leave to place over his own clutching Kuroo’s shirt. Only then, does he loosen his grip, enough for Kuroo to move closer beside him and cradle his head with the hand that was on his chest.

“We entered that simulation, that game you wanted to try,” Kuroo explains quietly. Kenma almost whines when he feels Kuroo nose along his cheek. He still doesn’t _understand_. “You turned eighteen, so I entered the simulation with you since I qualified for it.”

Kenma doesn’t remember, but he tries to bask in the affection instead. “What game?” He stares as Kuroo lifts his head again to stare him in the eyes. He’s so handsome. He’s missed him.

“We’re supposed to learn life lessons from it, come out of it wiser than before, and,” Kuroo murmurs. Kenma holds his breath when he leans in close again, a hand in his hair with the hand still cradling his head. Kenma feels like he’s precious to Kuroo, something he’s dreamed of being. “And Kenma, it’s your prototype program. Yamamoto is still asleep along with Fukunaga, and Hinata is supposed to do it next year.”

That surprises Kenma. He doesn’t remember creating a program, much less developing it for actual use, and he gasps when Tetsurou kisses the corner of his lips. “Tetsu,” he says, watching as a couple more tears fall from his best friend’s eyes. “You—”

Tetsurou kisses him before he can say anything else. He kisses him like he’s trying to breathe life into him and Kenma drinks it for all its worth. He clings onto him like he’ll disappear again and he has no idea why or how he didn’t remember it in the simulation itself. He loves Tetsurou and they _know_ it.

“A hundred years and you never told me you loved me in the game,” Tetsurou whines when they part. It makes Kenma laugh, completely in awe, completely in surprise, because he’s the one pulling Tetsurou down for another kiss. “I waited and waited and then I _died_. Kenma, you’re cruel in video games.”

“I know,” Kenma murmurs, laughing, when Tetsurou leans down to wipe his snot all over the front of his shirt. He remembers watching Tetsurou fall asleep before him, monitoring him, making sure he was safe before entering his own program. “I remember. That’s gross.”

“You need to update your game.”

“I need to toss it out the window and engulf it in flames.”

“After Yamamoto and Fukunaga are out.”

Kenma smiles when Tetsurou lifts his face again. This time, he reaches out to cradle Tetsurou’s head. His hair is all over the place. “Tell the doctors to speed up their simulations. Carefully. Get them out.” But he tugs on Tetsurou’s shirt before he can turn to leave. “Kiss me again first.”

The way Tetsurou smiles, the way he leans into him when he does, makes Kenma’s mind spin. He doesn’t understand how he could forget all about their real lives, how they lived in a simulation for however long, and that he lived one hundred years without telling Tetsurou his real feelings. He can’t believe he avoided him for as long as he did.

“Say you love me!”

Kenma bursts into laughter at the whine, tugging Tetsurou closer until he’s practically hugging him on the bed. “I love you, Kuro,” he murmurs, lips moving along his, smiling when Tetsurou does into their kiss. “I told you I was really good at games.”

“Don’t even ruin the moment.”

Kenma laughs, feeling lighter than he ever felt in the game, “Okay.”

_The latest news from the innovative gamer, rumored to have developed the newest and most realistic simulation where you can live your life to figure out the best way possible to live it in the real world!_

_KODZUKEN: It’s simple, isn’t it? Doesn’t everyone want a second chance at life?_

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is actually a little ~~a whole lot~~ personal to me, so what a coincidence ;u;
> 
> i hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> come be friends with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mochigetsu)!


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